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Newsgroups: alt.sex.motss
Subject: STORY: Gay 085, 1 of 1: The Blow Job
Message-ID:
From: Warren Williams
Date: Tue, 23 Mar 93 02:37:31 +1300
Organization: Sideways Bulletin Board, Lower Hutt, New Zealand
Lines: 194
This is an automatic story posting; five stories are posted each day.
Sometimes a non-gay story may slip through -- I haven't checked all
files. I didn't write any of these, authors names are listed if known.
Sorry, but I can't e-mail out stories because of New Zealand e-mail
charges -- but can repost if too many people miss a story.
File: gay085 (part 1 of 1)
ZipN: blowjob.txt (filename from zip file)
Name: The Blow Job
-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- 8< cut here 8< -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- --
Newsgroups: alt.sex.motss
Subject: STORY: Blowjob
Date: 7 Mar 92 15:05:54 GMT
Lines: 177
THE BLOW JOB
by Anonymous
I knelt before him, my knees cushioned by the soft shag carpet. He
was utterly naked, his hard, hairy body completely open to my eyes and
touch. His cock hung at rest over his balls, pointing downward... down
to my eager and hungry mouth.
On my knees, in what was supposedly a subservient position -- that
of the cocksucker as opposed to the cocksuckee -- I never felt more in
control. On other nights and in other situations we could be, and indeed
were, equals. As a lover, friend and partner I could not ask for much
more. Tonight, though, was different. Tonight, while appearing to give
myself utterly to him, I would, in fact, be wallowing in self-indulgent
lust.
Yesterday and tomorrow he was and would be my reason for living.
Tonight he was just a cock -- this cock -- now faintly stirring with
life in response to my simply kneeling before it and contemplating its
beauty. It really was beautiful, I noted, as I took the time to examine
it carefully. Much as I love my own dick I could never contort my body
sufficiently to examine it in this way.
The head was soft to the touch, the way no other part of his body
ever was. It did look like a helmet, with the mouthlike slit where the
spike or plume would be. Now that tiny mouth was opening, speaking in
small droplets of clear, sticky precum, that precious fluid that
prepared the way for the glories yet to come.
Around the edge of the head was the tender meaty ridge that I so
enjoyed nibbling on. It made a near perfect ring, except for the break
on the bottom. The break formed an arrow seemingly molded into the
flesh, pointing at the fount of his manly nectar.
His shaft, now legthening as his hot blood rushed to engorge his
tool, provided further visual delights. First was the reddish pink ring
that was part of the head. A few teeth gently scraped along this surface
at just the right moment could produce the most interesting reactions.
It was very tender and always deserved to be treated with the utmost in
tender loving care.
Beneath that was a dark brown ring that marked where his foreskin
had been cut off. There are some who prefer their cocks uncut, but not
me. An uncut penis is like a theater before the houselights go down and
the curtain has gone up. The fleshy pole before me instead seemed like a
solo star turn, with all the footlights and spotlights geared to
emphasizing this one point onstage.
Still lower was the pink flesh which led to the rest of his body.
Even here there were signs of erotic delights to be followed, such as
the dark, curly pubic hair which reached out to surround this
magnificent member, like vines around a mighty tree.
His dark triangle was like a private garden. It had a fountain, it
had tangled undergrowth, it had two boulders which offered unique
vantage points, and it had paths leading away from the garden that held
the promise of other exotic delights that might yet be discovered. Right
now I examined those moss covered boulders, the wrinkled, hairy sac
which contained his balls. Even as I watched they were manufacturing
that hot cream that I would eventually allow him to shoot down my
throat. That, however, would be in good time.
Without my having touched him -- without having done anything more
than simply let my eyes dance through the region of his groin -- he had
become hard and aroused. His flaccid dick had literally stretched itself
out to its full seven inches, and was now twitching in anticipation of
what I would do next.
Since my plan was to indulge each of my senses tonight, what I did
next was press my face into his crotch, instantly becoming drunk from
the heady scent of his masculinity. The combination of sight and smell
had their desired effect. I no longer was content to be the passive
observer here. I wanted this cock, and I wanted it now. It was time for
action.
My hand reached for his scrotal pouch and gently hefted it, as much
for the feel as for a bit of misdirection. As he focused his attention
on his balls, I leaned forward and -- quick as a whip -- darted out my
tongue to lick the quivering drop of precum that had formed at his
cocktip. He shuddered aloud, as much from the surprise as from the
sensation, and the sound of his gasp added to my sensory enjoyment of
the situation.
I let go of his balls, and grasped his fleshy piston at the piston.
Simultaneously this increased his excitement as at last he got the firm
contact that he craved, while it also served to calm him down, reminding
him that tonight his sexually satisfaction was a happy by-product, not
the reason, for my actions.
I examined the stiff dick in my hand. The blue veins literally
pulsed with the blood that was forced into his cock to create the hard
firmness I loved so much. Still holding it, I gently licked the
underside of his tool, savoring both the taste and near swoon that
welcomed my ministrations.
Crouching down between his muscular thighs, I opened my mouth wide,
to take his hot nuts into my mouth. Gently, ever so gently, I sucked on
them, spurring them on in their production of manly juices. When my
tongue pressed up between them, spreading them apart, I was afraid he
was going to lose it right there. I disengaged and pulled back, waiting
for him to mentally reset the hair trigger on pulsing weapon.
This teasing could have gone on for hours, and on other nights it
did. Then the purpose was to drive him wild and having literally begging
for release. When it came -- when he came -- it was an awesome moment
that sealed the bond between us. Tonight, though, it was my schedule we
were adhering to, and now I wanted to take that beautiful cock into my
mouth and suck on it as if my life depending on it. Which is exactly
what I did.
First I pursed my lips into a tight ring so that every millimeter
of his dickflesh would be tantalized by my soft wet lips. When my nose
was buried at its hairy root, with his balls grazing my chin, I paused
to drink in the sensations of the moment.
The soft head of his dick grazed the roof of my mouth, but I had
long since learned how to suppress the gag reflex that might have pushed
it back. His long rod pulsed on my tongue. I could literally taste the
changes in pressure as the blood coursed through his pole. Some more
precum dribbled out and I could taste it on the back of my tongue as
slid across it and down my throat.
Now I pulled back, exerting a gentle suction as I drew my lips
across his veiny member. Again I plunged downward, exhilirated by the
feeling of his cock penetrating my face. I continued doing this until he
began rolling his hips and moving his stiff prick on his own accord. I
stopped my motion -- not to restrain him, but in order to experience the
sheer animal sensation of having my face fucked. As he penetrated my
mouth, again and again, I kept my eyes open in order to fully drink in
the moment.
My tongue flicked the slick underside of his dick as his fucking
motions increased. I took his hands and placed them on the back of my
head. This served not only to steady his balance, but to encompass me in
his urgent need. As he thrust his crotch into my face, impaling me with
his erection, his hands pulled my head inward towards the boiling cream
that was rising up from his balls.
I reached out and grabbed his ass cheeks, my fingers probing for
that secret hole where my own stiffness would be buried later that
evening. That penetrating finger pressed the final button for his
orgasm. All in an instant he clamped down on my finger, pushed my face
so deeply into his crotch that I could count the individual pubic hairs,
and thrust upward in a final motion that symbolized for me the joy and
the excitement that is fucking.
The world came to a standstill, as he teetered on the precipice. I
could feel that moment of indecision, where he could pull back in hopes
of achieving still greater heights, or go ahead into glorious free fall.
He fell, and his cock began shooting forth like a geyser.
As there is a moment of indecision in fucking, so is there one in
cocksucking -- to swallow or not to swallow. I always opt to swallow,
which was fortunate since I was so position that my choice was reduced
to swallowing or foregoing breathing. His dick was sheathed so deeply in
my mouth that the first two shots missed my tongue entirely and went
directly down my throat. Then, as he relaxed slightly and leaned back,
the remaining nectar poured out onto my tongue, where I could enjoy its
salty, manly essence.
Such was the intensity of the moment that we remain locked together
in this fashion for several minutes, long enough for me to drain him
dry, and finally return his now flaccid tool to the state where I had
originally found it.
When I finally rose from the floor, my head was swimming from the
indescribably ecstasies of achieving the perfect blow job. In reducing
himself, for just a while, to the stiff cock that I needed for this
fantasy, he had given me a great gift. How could I ever show my
gratitude and devotion for this present? One look into his eyes gave me
the answer.
I took his place, and he took mine, and he proceeded to slowly
examine my cock.
the end